


By Tonight

by hannigramcracker



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Graphic Depictions of Illness, I'm back at it boys, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting, not proofread sorry, puke without plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 01:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigramcracker/pseuds/hannigramcracker
Summary: Rhett and Link have a special date planned, but Link is feeling ill on the night of. He tries to ignore it for as long as he can, but will it be long enough?(It won't.)





	By Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for Becky. You left a comment on my fic Sunshine and I told you this was in the works. Nearly two months later, and here we are. Hope you love it!
> 
>  
> 
> I always just title these vague things from my RandL playlist that really have nothing to do with the actual plot of the thing, oh well.

Link stared at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t going to cancel this date. He  _ wasn’t.  _

 

No matter how hard his head was pounding, no matter how tired his eyes looked, no matter how much his empty stomach turned. He was  _ going.  _

 

Rhett had been looking forward to going to the new restaurant opening down the street since they announced its arrival. He’d made the reservations the moment they had posted a phone number, and it was good that he did because the place filled up soon after that. 

 

Dinner for two, just them. No wives, no kids, no crew. Things like this didn’t happen very often, and they both valued their time together outside of work. 

 

Rhett, ever the proper gentleman, had insisted on coming to pick Link up and said he’d foot the bill. 

 

Now, it was twenty minutes before Rhett was supposed to be there, and it was taking everything in Link to not call and cancel. He felt terrible, but he knew hearing the concerned disappointment in Rhett’s voice would make him feel even worse. So instead, Link brushed his teeth  _ again  _ and hoped the peppermint would help quash his nausea. He hadn’t been sick yet, and really hoped he could keep it that way through dinner. 

 

He was straightening his t shirt in the mirror, trying to decide if he should wear his purple cardigan over it or not. He decided yes, if only because of the sensory comfort it brought him. It was soft and smelled nice and covered almost half of his thumbs when he pulled the sleeves down tight. Anything to feel small in Rhett’s presence. 

 

Link shook his head, trying to shake off the very visceral feeling of wanting Rhett’s comfort in any way possible. He knew he wasn’t feeling well when his subconscious decided he wanted to be babied by the other man, and here he was - definitely running a fever and making outfit choices to reflect it. Link sighed, running his hands up and down his forearms, trying to get lost in the soft plushness of fabric that was well worn and well loved. He knew if they posted a selfie on snapchat later, the mythical beasts would hopefully be too preoccupied by the reappearance of the cardigan to notice the deep bags under his eyes and the pallor of his face. 

 

Link took his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused on his breath. He tried with everything inside of him to simply  _ breathe  _ away the uneasy feeling in his stomach, the shaky feeling settled deep in his bones, but it was all wishful thinking. 

 

His phone chimed quietly, buzzing twice in his hip pocket. Link knew it was Rhett texting him before he even lifted the phone to read the message. 

 

_ Be there in ten, brother.  _

 

Link took yet another breath, steeling and steadying himself. He was going to be just fine. Dinner wouldn’t last more than a few hours, and as much as he hated rushing the time he got to spend with Rhett, tonight he couldn’t wait to get back home and fall headfirst into bed. Link almost couldn’t tell if the gnawing feeling in his stomach was nausea or guilt over how uninvested in the night he was. He put his glasses back on, tugged lightly on the sleeves of his cardigan and decided to move downstairs to put his going out shoes on. 

 

Rhett honked twice as soon as Link finished putting his shoes on. Choosing not to linger on the fact that it took him upwards of  _ ten minutes  _ to put them on if Rhett was here already, Link grabbed his keys and wallet and locked the door behind him. 

 

The car smelled like Rhett. Like slightly smoky sandalwood, musky amber, and something so distinctly  _ Rhett  _ Link couldn’t give it any other name. He relaxed into the familiar comfort almost immediately, even if a small part of him was wishing they could just cuddle on his couch for the night. Link put a smile on his face, and hoped it looked genuine enough to fool Rhett. That wasn’t something easily done, but Rhett’s smile in return was real enough that Link thought he succeeded. Rhett leaned across the center console to peck a kiss to his cheek and Link leaned into it. 

 

“Hey.”  Link said simply, trying to ignore the sharp pain behind his eyes.

 

“Are you excited to try out this place? I’ve been looking at the menu online and I think I know what I’m gonna get already!” 

 

Link just nodded, he wanted to be excited, but the thought of putting food into his mouth made him want to gag more than a boiled pig anus did. Mentally, Link kicked himself for not having researched the menu. It would save them time when they got there. “Haven’t checked it out yet. I want to be surprised.” 

 

“That’s not a bad idea, either. I’ll probably still look through it when we get there, see if they have any specials listed.” 

 

Link nodded, swallowing a little harder than was necessary. The motion of the car weaving through LA traffic was doing nothing to help the ever-growing queasy feeling deep inside his gut. He wanted to moan, to press a hand against his stomach and wallow, but he didn’t want to disappoint Rhett. Instead, he tensed his jaw and hoped that Rhett wasn’t catching on that something was wrong. 

 

Link somehow stumbled his way through a bit more small talk, latching onto Rhett’s hand when he extended it across the arm rests. Rhett rubbed between his knuckles and it soothed him in a way he couldn’t have explained if he tried. By the time they were turning in to the parking lot of the restaurant, Link felt like his hand was clammy and his palm was slick with sweat, but Rhett didn’t mention it. 

 

Rhett put the car in park and Link climbed out, bracing his hand against the car door for a moment longer than necessary as he shut it. He was starting to feel shaky and off-kilter and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. The smells that wafted across the parking lot of grease and fried food was doing nothing to help his situation. A small burp wrestled its way up Link’s throat, leaving his chest feeling tight and hot. He wondered if it would be incredibly obvious if he tried to order a ginger ale, or cup of hot tea. 

 

Rhett guided him through the parking lot with a hand at the small of his back. They didn’t usually hold hands in public, but casual and subtle touches meant the world. Link felt safe with Rhett towering over him, felt protected by the gentle pressure of  Rhett’s hip against the small of his back. It was all Link wanted to reach backwards and wrap his hands around Rhett’s neck and have him lean down and kiss him first on his forehead, then on his cheeks and lips. Normally, that would happen later, after dinner was done, but Link knew he was going to bow out before that happened tonight. That thought made him feel even more miserable. 

 

The moment they pushed through the doors of the restaurant, they were greeted by nothing short of barely controlled chaos. It was expected of any highly anticipated establishment in this part of the city, but Link was less than prepared for it. People stood, congesting the doorway waiting for their tables. The two of them had to worm their way through the small crowd to speak with the staff to get a table. A cold sweat began to bead at the back of Link’s neck and slip down his spine. Link shivered uncomfortably as a jolt of cold ran through him, leaving goosebumps prickling at his arms in his wake. Defeatedly, he realized he definitely did have a fever. It was too late to back out now, though. Rhett was talking to the hostess about their reservations, and soon they were ushered to a table in the center of the restaurant. 

 

If Link thought it might be a little less chaotic once they were sitting, he was wrong. People talking over each other creating the worst sort of white noise imaginable. It punctuated here and there by the clinks and clangs of silverware and glasses, of plates being set down on tables. Each sound reverberated through his aching head, making him want to clench his eyes shut against the noise. Waiters were bustling around them and Link swore he could feel the heat from each and every body pressing against the bubble of his personal space. Sometimes, he got like this in public. He didn’t get overwhelmed like this so frequently since moving to LA, but as he pulled a chair out and sat down he could feel himself struggling to keep his breathing under control. 

 

Great, panic was  _ exactly  _ what he needed on top of not feeling well. The waitress was placing their menus in front of them and rattling off the drink and food specials. Link tried to listen, but everything was getting a little fuzzy around the edges. He just wanted them to be left alone so he could try to focus on finding something in the menu that wasn’t going to upset his insides. The waitress left and said she would be back with waters and salads and Link let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as she walked away. 

 

“Hey. You doin’ okay, Linkster?” Rhett asked, dipping his head down to try to meet Link’s eyes. 

 

Link looked up to meet his gaze and it was so filled with compassion and concern that Link almost wanted to cry. He wanted to break down right then and tell Rhett that  _ no,  _ he wasn’t doing okay. He felt like complete trash and sitting in this uncomfortable chair with loud strangers all around him wasn’t helping anything. His head was starting to throb, and he almost told the truth. “I’m good, brother. Just...a lot of people. I’m a little overwhelmed but it’ll go away.” 

 

Rhett didn’t look convinced, but nodded his head. He reached across the table to grasp Link’s hand for just a moment before retracting it. “Okay. Just tell me if you need something.” 

 

Link averted his eyes and opened his menu. He held it up in front of his face, trying to hide the tears that had bloomed in the corners of his eyes. He felt completely out of control of himself, like he couldn’t keep a handle on his emotions. 

 

After a few minutes of looking at the menu, but not really seeing it, the waitress was back and setting down their waters and salads. Link almost couldn’t wait to sip on the water, his throat was parched and starting to feel cracked. Rhett thanked her for both of them, ordered some kind of appetizer and told her they needed more time to think about their entrees. Link was incredibly thankful he didn’t have to talk because at that moment his nausea spiked. He had almost forgotten about it, and feeling neglected, it returned tenfold. 

 

Link clenched his teeth and grunted quietly, as a heady whiff of someone’s meal being carried across the room reached him. He was sure Rhett hadn’t heard him, but he really didn’t know how he expected himself to order and eat something without vomiting it back up all over the table in front of them. That image alone made his stomach roil enough for Link to curl his toes inside his shoes. Even looking at the pictures of meals in the menu was almost too much for him. He closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness and hoped it was dissipate enough for him to at least stomach  _ something.  _

 

He hadn’t felt this bad when he was getting ready to leave the house. 

 

“What are you thinkin’ of ordering?” Rhett asked, and Link hummed in response, not particularly wanting to open his mouth. 

 

“Probably just a burger or something.” Link shrugged.

 

“Simple, and predictable. The Link Neal I know and love.” 

 

Link smiled, but he couldn’t tell if the heat rising to his cheeks was from Rhett’s compliment or his growing fever. 

 

Rhett was pouring dressing onto his salad and held it out for Link to do the same when he was done. Link took it and poured a bit onto the leaves of spinach, taking a few sips of ice water to try to prepare himself for actually having to eat. He stabbed a few pieces of spinach and stuffed them into his mouth, trying to chew and swallow as quickly as he could to get it over with. The dressing was oily, and the leaves were rough and tough to swallow, but swallow them he did. He took another bite almost as soon as the first one was down, wanting desperately to employ some of the stranger eating tactics Good Mythical Morning had taught him. But this was a simple salad, not something ridiculously disgusting or spicy. He had to act normal, act like this wasn’t a feat he was barely accomplishing. He stomach swirled again around his third bite, the fourth still hanging in his mouth, being shredded reluctantly by his teeth. Nausea once again began to swell, growing bigger and bigger and impossibly filling his stomach after only a few bites of salad. Nonsensically, he wished he had his Mythical trash can with him, that it was just sitting hidden under the table and waiting for him. 

 

But it wasn’t. 

 

Link let his fork clatter to the table and put his head back, blinking rapidly and trying desperately to swallow. He knew he was being obvious at this point, but he also knew he was quickly losing the battle he was fighting against his body. He swallowed and immediately took his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an echo of his actions before he left the house. He blindly hoped that somehow the pressure would help the mounting discomfort in the rest of his body. He felt like his very  _ bones  _ were starting to ache. He reached forward to sip his water again, but Rhett caught his wrist. 

 

“What’s wrong, bo?” He asked quietly, leaving no room for argument from Link. 

 

But still, Link tried to find a way out of telling Rhett that he wasn’t feeling well. “Just...still overwhelmed.” His mouth was starting to water. He needed  _ out.  _ He swallowed thick spit. “I’m...uh, I’m gonna run to the bathroom. You know, catch my breath.” 

 

Before Rhett could even respond, Link was pushing himself back from the table and standing so quickly, it was a miracle the chair didn’t fall to the ground. 

 

“Just...order for me. You know what I want.” Link said over his shoulder as he walked from the table in the what he hoped was the direction of the restrooms.

 

All he wanted was some privacy, a little time to get his stomach back under control. He walked toward the back of the establishment, having to cover his mouth with a hand when a waiter passed him with a sizzling and bubbling steak on a skillet. He groaned, thinking he was going to have to somehow open his mouth to ask an employee to help him reach his destination when he noticed a lighted sign hanging in the corner. He immediately adjusted his direction and was in the bathroom within moments. 

 

Link prayed the room would be empty as the door slipped shut behind him. He leaned against the door as he took in the sight of empty urinals and one open stall door. He wished he could somehow hold the door shut, wished this place had a one-person bathroom instead, but he wasn’t able to dwell on wishful thinking before his stomach convulsed again. He threw himself from the door, cupping a hand back over his mouth and gagging headily for the first time that evening. He still kept his lips pressed shut, and he only felt bile splash at the back of his throat. 

 

He lurched toward the stall, one hand stretched in front of him, the other still cupped beneath his chin. Another gag forced its way out, followed by a bubbling belch. His shoulders tensed as he latched the door behind him, or tried to, his vision was starting to blur even with his glasses on. The very last thing Link wanted to do was kneel on the floor of a public restroom and puke his guts out, but the more time he spent in here, the more likely that scenario was looking. 

 

Actually  _ kneeling  _ on the floor was not an option - Link’s mind supplied him with a hundred reasons not to, least of all being all the bacteria that lived on smooth innocent looking tiles, no matter how new - so the next abortive gag had him lurching to an awkward crouched position in front of the bright white toilet. It glared in his glasses and hurt his eyes. He tore his glasses from his face and gnashed his teeth against a terrible cramp that ripped through his midsection. He carefully balanced his glasses on the back of the toilet and said a silent prayer that they would stray there and not fall in to the mess he was no doubt going to make. He would have to buy new glasses if that happened. 

 

Right now, though, that was the least of his worries. The position that he was crouched in was doing nothing to alleviate the cramps that were wracking his stomach. Link hissed in pain, wrapping one hand cautiously around his middle. His brow was starting to sweat, hot sweat to add to the cold beads that were still gathering against his spine. He shivered, felt delirious and miserable. His shirt was sticking to him in the back and under his arms and he just wished he was at home, curled up on his own familiar bathroom floor, using his plush bath mat as a pillow. 

 

Link’s stomach rumbled again, causing a helpless moan to fall from his lips. Another burp followed the moan, bringing back the hot tightness from before. Link moved the hand from against his stomach to over his lips, shaking his head and trying desperately to quell the nauseous feeling spreading up his esophagus. Another gag punctuated by a moan spilled forth, but nothing came of it. Link was feeling utterly miserable, gagging on nothing, feeling the few bites of salad he had forced himself to eat slowly climbing up his throat. He knew the inevitable was coming, and he almost wished it was just hurry up. He had no idea how long he had been back here for, he’d lost track of time. He wanted to get this over with and go back to Rhett like nothing had happened. 

 

A voice in his head told him that was never going to happen, but it was silenced by another gag. This time an empty heave followed and Link lurched even closer to the toilet to spit thick drool that was continuously collecting under his tongue. He knew he didn’t have very long now. The stall door swung open slightly and hit Link in the back. It took him a moment to recognize what the sharp pain where the corner met him meant, and as he did he was heaving again. 

 

He braced himself with one hand against the wall of the stall, bearing most of his weight on that wrist, his other hand reflexively flying back to press his lips into his teeth. Another heave, and this time it wasn’t empty. Bright acidic stomach acid flooded into his mouth and he had to tear his hand away and let it fall into the toilet. The splash it made was sickening and caused Link to gag again. The force of the heave that followed sent Link’s upper body lurching over the toilet, and let the flagging door collide with his spine again. He couldn’t reach a hand back and close it for fear of actually falling down on the dirty floor. His body was trembling and shaking, he felt like he might fall and hit his head on the bowl of the toilet if he moved too much. 

 

His body didn’t get that memo, though, as another heave forced its way up Link’s throat. This time it brought up a mouthful of barely chewed and entirely undigested spinach. It was so bitter coming back up, and Link could still feel the bright crunch of it when he clenched his jaw, some stuck between his teeth. He spat into the toilet, heavily, and closed his eyes against the visual of greens floating in the tepid water. His stomach jumped into his throat and he let go of the wall to brace both of his hands against the seat of the toilet, hanging his head down between them. Another mouthful of salad came up, painfully, barely lubricated by the burning stomach acid that accompanied it. It was thick and Link had to actively spit  _ again  _ to get the acrid taste from his mouth. 

 

It was pointless, as another heave came right on the tails of the last. It was as though he could not stop now that he had started. Link coughed around a mouthful of mostly digested slurry that came surging from his throat. At least he was past the torture of the undigested salad. That was a small comfort though, as the sickening sound of vomit landing in the toilet caused him to heave again. Sick gushed in an arc from between his parted lips and left Link panting. Part of the mouthful landed with a wet slap against the rim of the toilet seat, nearly missing his thumb, and he choked up another thick mouthful at the sight of it. The movement of his body from each heave still caused the door to swing forward and hit him in the back. He was sure he was going to have an interesting bruise forming there within the next few days. 

 

Breathlessly, Link moaned, the huff of his breath causing the water in the toilet to ripple slightly. He panted, wishing he had something to rinse his mouth out with. He could still taste the ghost of the salad dressing, masked only barely by putrid stomach acid. He wanted to reach up and flush, if only to get the high and sour smell out of the air around him, but his fingers were trembling along with his lips. His arms felt weak, too tired to move, too tired to be continuing to hold him up. A sob snuck its way up Link’s raw throat, just as he heard the door of the bathroom opening outside of the confines of his misery. 

 

Link immediately clamped his mouth shut. He froze in embarrassment, not wanting anyone to know he was there, praying that there was some way the intruder wouldn’t see him crouching over the toilet through the crack of the half open stall door, somehow wouldn’t smell the cloying stench of vomit. He was shaking with apprehension and panic, causing a renewed bout of nausea to burst and bloom through his stomach. He grit his teeth and tried his best not to moan, but a broken sound escaped his lips anyway. 

 

“Link?” A voice echoed against the tiles. “You okay in here, buddy? You’ve been back here a while.” 

 

Link couldn’t answer. Tears were starting to slip down his cheeks. His face already felt quite wet - had he been crying before now? From exertion or discomfort, Link could not tell. “Brother? Is that you?” 

 

Instead of an answer, Link heaved again. Yet another mouthful of awful slurry plumed into the toilet, and Link wished he could erase the sounds of his own gags, the sounds of vomit hitting the water in a toilet, from his memory forever. The way the sounds bounced off the room, echoing terribly, was sickening. 

 

_ “Rhett--”  _ Link moaned, cutting himself off with a gag that was mercifully empty. Link could hear Rhett approaching, and as much as he hadn’t wanted to show Rhett that he was feeling unwell, hadn’t wanted to ruin Rhett’s night like this, he was endlessly thankful that he was here now. 

 

Rhett somehow slipped through the crack the open stall door created without driving it painfully into Link’s back and he latched it shut behind him. Immediately, Link felt like there was more room to breathe, even though Rhett’s body was now filling up most of the empty space. Link was still crouched, knees almost up to his chest and spread at an odd angle with the toilet between them. He fuzzily began to realize that his feet were falling asleep from being in this position for so long. His throat felt completely raw. How long had he been here like this?

 

Rhett clicked his tongue and reached down to place his hands on Link’s shoulders, gently massaging. “I could tell something was off with you tonight. You’re okay, angel.” 

 

Link had thought he felt the awful nauseous tumbling in his stomach dissipating, but he had been wrong. It shot back through him with a white hot pain and he was leaning forward again, bringing Rhett’s hands with him. Link let Rhett support most of his weight as he retched once more. He spat and spewed once more, two rapid mouthfuls. Rhett was rubbing circles into Link’s shoulders and Link almost melted into the touch. The muscles in his stomach were on fire. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Link gasped once he was finished. He tried to move to flush the toilet, but he couldn’t summon up enough strength to reach that far. Rhett moved one hand from Link’s shoulder and did it for him. Link shut his eyes tight in order to not watch the mess swirl down the toilet in front of him. He sagged back into Rhett. “Sorry.” 

 

“You don’t need to be sorry, bo. Are you gonna throw up again?” Rhett asked, his voice was soft and quiet. Link shook his head. He felt achingly empty now, felt relatively sure he was finished retching for the time being. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling good?” 

 

Link sighed, sagging even further, absolutely sapped of all energy. He wanted to stand up, wanted to get out of this horribly uncomfortable position, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. He knew Rhett was going to have to help him up. 

 

“I didn’t wanna ruin the night.” Link mumbled, hating himself, knowing that was exactly what he had done. 

 

“I would have understood, brother.” Rhett was talking as quietly as Link was, and Link was thankful for that, his head was starting to pound in a rather dizzying kind of way. 

 

“You were so excited to eat here. Our reservations. And I still ruined it.” 

 

“Link, I don’t care about any of that. I care about  _ you  _ and getting to spend time with you. You’re way more important than any stupid restaurant. Especially if you’re feeling this sick.”

 

“Wasn’t this bad until we got here.” Link answered, shifting his gaze to the floor even though Rhett couldn’t see his face, choosing not to respond to most of what Rhett said. 

 

“We could have rescheduled, bo.” Rhett said again, and he sounded earnest and not exactly disappointed. “Now, come on. Let me help you up and get you out of here. Still think you’re done?” 

 

“For now.” Link conceded. He pushed up from the toilet seat and leaned back into Rhett’s open arms to help him stand. “M’ glasses.” 

 

Rhett chuckled a bit and Link watched as he reached around him to grab Link’s glasses. He tucked them into his shirt pocket, and Link was thankful Rhett didn’t put them back on his nose. He didn’t want to have to look at everyone in the restaurant as they were leaving. Link leaned heavily into Rhett’s embrace, once again drawing comfort from the smell of him. He moaned slightly into Rhett’s neck, slotting right in. Rhett reached to unlatch and open the stall door. 

 

“Just hold on, brother. I’ll get you out of here in one piece. Promise.” Rhett pressed a kiss to crown of Link’s head and Link nodded. 

 

He kept his eyes on their feet as Rhett led him out of the bathroom and out of a back door of the restaurant. He focused on keeping his breath even and regular, even in the presence of loud voices and food smells once again, and before he knew it they were outside and Rhett was opening the car door for him. Link clambered in, ungracefully buckling his seatbelt and leaning his head against the headrest of the passenger seat. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in his lungs when Rhett got in the driver’s seat and started up the car. “Relax, bo. I’m gonna get you home.” 

 

Link listened, letting his eyes fall shut as the last bit of energy slipped from his body. He was asleep before they even left the parking lot. 

 

No matter how many times he told Rhett he didn’t have to stay, he set up camp on Link’s living room floor while Link sprawled on the couch with an empty trash can within arms reach. Rhett refused to leave him until he knew he was feeling better. 

 

Link couldn’t even begin to comprehend how lucky he was to have this most wonderful and perfect man in his life. He was falling asleep again, one hand hanging off the couch and loosely holding Rhett's, while mentally making plans for their next date, something that would make up for the absolute trainwreck this one had been. 

**Author's Note:**

> I lost the fire for a while, but I think I found it again. Feel free to leave a comment if you have any ideas for our boys. A vom-ment, if you will. 
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah, I'll go now.


End file.
